


Mimic

by Withstarryeyes



Series: Heart on Your Sleeve [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Colors, F/F, F/M, Fluff, colorful hair, expressive wings, slow dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6803488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t Cas’ hair that revealed passion or embarrassment or confusion, but his wings. Brilliant colors playing like a movie over numerous feathers. They were usually ink black, as if it was loaded in a pen and the colors were a story being written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mimic

It wasn’t Cas’ hair that revealed passion or embarrassment or confusion, but his wings. Brilliant colors playing like a movie over numerous feathers. They were usually ink black, as if it was loaded in a pen and the colors were a story being written. You didn’t know why you could see them, the expansive wings that stretched for miles away from the Angel’s body, didn’t know why you had the honor of seeing the bright hues that adorned them. All you know was that you loved it, and would always be able to make a case against ‘emotionless Cas’ everyone thought he was. 

Everyone seemed to think he was a robot, but the blues and greens that came out anytime he talked about Dean resisted that. Comfort came with Dean, dark teals and turquoises, sometimes a green the exact shade of Dean’s eyes. They were good friend you knew, a spark of something underlying their interactions. You thought it might be love sometimes but Cas was your boyfriend and you never saw the tell tale sandy color in his wings when talking to Dean. 

Most of the colors were fairly muted, his feathers easter eggs and watercolors rather than neon signs. You always liked the more subtle shades anyway. His wings would create patterns when he was confused, houndstooth, checkerboards, paisley. The color scheme of the patterns revealing how he felt. Pop culture always made him mildly amused, soft cream oranges. Frustration came in dirt brown, a mucky, muddy color that left your heart sinking.

The best was when he was inspired, passioned. When his eyes shone with that sparkle and you could imagine him rebellious, fighting against heaven. Finding his footing with the brothers even with his feet on clouds. Royal purple dripped like paint down the edges of his wings, swirling into a navy blue at the center, brush like strokes of gold interspersed all around. It was like a famous painting wrapped up in Cas. You almost expected to feel the thick plastically acrylic paint on them when you touched them. 

You remembered slow dancing with him, his wings curling around your back. Surprising warm against your arm. His movements to the music graceful, angelic, the colors moving in tempo to the song. It was magical, disney like. How they went from sky blue in tune to nostalgia when the song that played in the Impala the first hunt you two went on together to that beautiful sandy tan. His love for you would always shine through, past everything. 

“You know I think this night is perfect,” You’d whispered half between awe and heaven and he’d chuckles,lilacs and creamsicles and cute little meadows arching across his back. 

He twirled you, your black heels clicking on the wood floor as his wings returned to ink in the lull of melody. 

“Did I ever tell you,” He began, catching your waist and dipping you down, down to the floor, his lips meeting yours, “That you are the most beautiful thing God has ever created?” You blushed deeply, knowing the truth that ran through the statement. 

“Well no. Not in words. But in those colors,” You said and smiled a wide grin at the blooming spiral on his wings. A pattern. 

“I don’t understand what you mean. How could I have told you that without spoken word?” His voice grumbled low in the bass of the music and you tightened the hand on his shoulder. 

“Sand. Love. Lilac. Adoration. It’s all in your wings, Cas. You’re a walking mood ring, you had to have known I’d figure out the meaning. You never said those things out loud but I could read them in your wonderful feathers,” Cas sighed, his eyebrows lifting and the spiral fading from his wings. 

“Well then, what does this mean?” He asked, a loaded question saturated in the grass green that inched around the edges of your vision. Lust, you registered right before he kissed you senseless. 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the end of the expressive hair story. I just couldn't resist writing a Cas version. I hoped you liked it.


End file.
